


Pale Blue Eyes

by Evlyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Expired Potions, Explicit Dreams, F/M, Mysterious Lovers, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4183047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evlyn/pseuds/Evlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger has wildly explicit dreams about a mysteriously familiar lover, but can't seem to figure out who it is. Rated M.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

For the third night in a row, Hermione Granger woke up in the middle of the night from a very lucid dream. She lay on her bed with her covers scattered around her and her nightie scrunched up around her waist. She ran a hand through her hair and wondered for the umpteenth time why Madame Pomfrey hadn’t told her about the side effects of the sleep potion that she was taking. It was the summer after her seventh year at Hogwarts and Hermione had lately been unable to get to sleep without the help of her sleep potion. Madame Pomfrey had given her a vial a couple months back when she was preparing for her NEWT’s. Her exam stress had turned into sporadic insomnia. She hadn’t used up the entire potion’s contents during the school year and had forgotten about the little clear vial until her insomnia had started up again a couple of days ago.

It was strange; over the school year, the potion had merely sent her into a deep, restoring sleep. The effects of the potion now were quite the opposite. The first night she had taken the potion, Hermione had woken up around four AM in the same state she was in now: covers in a mess and her cunt pulsing with desire. Each night she had woken up feeling flustered and unbelievably restless. And each night she had been unable to stop herself from relieving that desire.

She wondered if the potion had somehow gone off, like milk did if left in the fridge for too long. But she knew it hadn’t since she knew that this sort of potion didn’t have an expiration date. Either way, Hermione was left in a predicament. After that first night, she certainly was unable to fall asleep without the help of the potion. Whatever was the root cause of her insomnia had been joined by her wonderings about her explicit and vivid dreams to work together as a team to keep her from falling asleep.

That first dream had been completely surprising in its explicit nature. But of course it was only when she had woken that it had been shocking. In the dream she had never even thought about questioning what she was doing. In her dream, she had been having the most pleasurable sex that she had ever experienced. She hadn’t known who she was dreaming about, but he had seemed familiar in some respect, which made it all the better. Her mysterious dream man did the most outrageously dirty things to her; Hermione was surprised that it was her dreaming these things.

The dreams always left her quite restless. The only way she had gotten back to sleep for the past two nights was replaying the dream in her mind and slowly bringing herself to a completion. Afterwards always left her in a daze and she was able to fall back asleep. Just like the previous two nights Hermione closed her eyes, kicked off her underwear and began where the dream had left off.

* * *

 

She always felt dirty and wrong in the morning, like she had given into something she could have resisted. Hermione sighed as she got into the shower and washed the night away. She got dressed and headed into the kitchen where her parents were having breakfast. She grabbed a piece of toast and poured herself a cup of tea and headed out onto the back patio. She attempted to immerse herself in the book she was reading, but nothing could stop the images and subsequent feelings of the previous nights’ events.

After staring at the words on the page for a solid minute without taking any of it in, Hermione got up and decided a walk outdoors would do her good. Clear her head, and all of that. Fresh air. Maybe she was just going stir crazy in the house. After all, she was used to life at Hogwarts, life without her parents in the next room over. Living back at home with them was a definite change. She had forgotten how much she liked living on her own, with people her own age. She didn’t have any siblings, so it was just mum and dad at home. They weren’t as old as her friends parents; they had her relatively young so her parents were in their early forties. Regardless, they were still her parents.

It was a warm sticky day outdoors. The air seemed full of the sweat that she always awoke in. Hermione walked a couple of blocks until she reached the gravel path. The grass was full of children running about with their parents chatting amongst themselves farther away by the benches. She had never really liked children; they were much too loud and she never knew how to deal with them. Her feet carried her to a quiet place by the pond which was always full of old leaves and natural debris. Nobody was near her, it seemed that the screaming kids preferred the open field to the shady pond area. She looped around the water and sat down on the least dirty of the benches. Once she was here, she wasn’t sure why she thought a walk would do her good. Now that she was stationary, she didn’t have anything to distract her from.

Something kept nagging at her thoughts about her recurring dream. It was like she had something before her but couldn’t place it. There was something familiar about the man in her dreams but for the life of her she couldn’t work out what it was. Being Hermione, she decided to go through systematically and try to work out who it was. She just had a gut feeling it was someone she knew. There was always an aspect of familiarity in her encounters with whoever it was. But she couldn’t place her man with anyone she knew. She had run through all the possibilities from Hogwarts, and it hadn’t been any of them, she was sure of. Aside from Ron and Victor she hadn’t really liked anyone else. She closed her eyes and sighed. It was useless coming out to the park if she was just going do this. She got up from the bench and made her way back through the park without another thought.

The day passed uneventfully. She didn’t have any distractions in the form of friends because the Weasleys had taken Harry on vacation with them to visit Charlie in Romania. She would have gone with them if things between her and the Weasleys weren’t what it was. It had only been a month since she had amicably broken up with Ron. Even though they had offered to take her along too, Hermione had though that it was just a bit too soon. They had made the plans months ago and everything had been different then. Hermione didn’t like the thought of Mrs. Weasley’s eye on her the whole time-- knowing what the older woman was stewing behind her pursed lips.

Hermione ended up lying atop her duvet in her lounge clothes reading some trashy novel she had reluctantly promised Ginny she’d read. She began to feel drowsy and before long, she tossed the book aside and fell asleep without the help of her potion.

_She was lying on her back on an endless sea of ivory satin sheets. Her lover was above her, kissing her intensely, leisurely. The sun’s warm rays shone down on them through the gauzy canopy. There wasn’t a thought in her head apart from the kisses he bestowed upon her. There was no exact time or place; that was irrelevant. They moved together, a beautiful union. She felt a blooming wholeness with her lover, something universal and somehow unique. His pale blue eyes remained locked on hers, intimating words through actions._

_Then the scene shifted, she was straddling him, wildly riding him. His broad grin and his pale blue eyes was all she saw as her hips bucked, taking him to the hilt. It was rabid passion, a necessity for more that she had never felt before. She felt him grab her ass and slap it, guiding her on. She felt so full and taken, every movement taking her higher. The sun’s warmth began seeping through her, solidifying in her center. The molten warmth started to become too hot, much too pleasurable. Then in a sudden rush, it became too much and came._

Hermione awoke suddenly to a dark room. Her book lay abandoned on the bedspread as she took in her surroundings. She checked the clock and realized it was well into the night—it was one in the morning. She quickly stripped down and threw her all her clothes and underwear off the bed and reached down to her damp center. She vigorously began pumping her fingers in and out of her hot cunt, remembering the feeling of riding her handsome lover. In her other hand she tweaked her nipples and massaged her breasts. She began moaning and gasping, not caring about anything but reaching her climax. She had one hand working her pussy tirelessly and the other grasped in the sheets. With one final stroke, she came as her back arched off the bed. The pleasurable rush surged through her and left her quite relaxed. She removed her hand from her cunt and licked her juices off her fingers, before rubbing them over her body feeling like the dirty girl in her dreams.

She lay there sated for a while, as the last bits of her orgasm washed from her. She stretched and recalled her lover’s eyes, his wicked grin, and his hands on her waist and her ass. She supposed this was the first time she remembered his physical attributes. And, she was sure that it was the same man that had starred in her other steamy dreams. But she was awake now, and she quite restless. She threw on a robe not bothering with clothes and crept into the kitchen for a glass of water.

She reached for the cool faceted water glass and began filling it from their filtered water tap. The moonlight streaming in through the clear windows lit up the speaks of metallic material in their granite counter top. Hermione’s eyes flitted to the pictures on the windowsill as she waited for her glass to fill. In the front was a picture of her on her eleventh birthday, smiling excitedly in her newly purchased Hogwarts robes. Beside it was a picture of the three of them on holiday when they had gone skiing in France. Behind it, in a gilded frame was a close up of her mum and dad on their wedding day. Her mom was wearing a lace white dress and looking happily into the camera. Her dad had his arm around her waist and was grinning broadly into the camera. Even though it had been many years ago, he still looked the same. Hermione knew that very same smile well. Even in the dim light, she saw the familiar smile lines around his eyes. His pale blue eyes.

The wave of realization hit her like a bomb. The insight gave her little comfort and raised more questions than it answered. What was she supposed to do now she that she knew?


	2. Chapter 2

It was a week after Hermione had her epiphany of sorts. Needless to say, she had been avoiding seeing her father ever since. She had been waking up early, leaving the house with a to-go container of strong tea and sitting in the cafe down the street from her parents London flat. There she brought her current book and simply spent the day there reading up the best ways to go about revolutionizing house elf rights. It certainly took her mind off things.

And getting out of the house worked the majority of the time. But when she turned off the lights and fell asleep, her thoughts always drifted back to her her dream-time escapades with a idolized, younger version of her father. And it seemed that since her revelation, she could remember them that much better. Which wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to remember every kiss, touch and electrifying feeling in the morning when she had to work out how she felt about dreaming explicit dreams about her father.

 Hermione got up from her desk where she had been staring out of the adjacent window and went into the hallway, but bumped into her mother who was going the other way carrying a basket of laundry. The basket of laundry slipped from her mother’s grip and fell with a mild clunk on the floor.

 “Oh Hermione dear, please watch where you’re going,” her mother mildly chided her. “Sorry.” Hermione replied, reaching for a pair of socks that had jumped out of the basket. “Here.” Hermione said, placing the sock back. Hermione watched as her mother picked up the basket and whisked into her parents room. She followed, leaning in the door frame as her mother continued the conversation they had been having at breakfast.

“Now, I expect that you will keep this house clean while your father and I are away. I put the number of the hotel on the table in the entry way if you ever need to reach us. I’ve also left some money next to the phone if you run out of anything. And if you--”

“Mum,” Hermione cut in, “I’m going to be fine. I am eighteen after all.”

She stopped folding the laundry and turned to look at Hermione.

“Of course dear. But that doesn’t mean I can just stop worrying about you,” She said with a thin smile on her face. “It doesn't work like that.” 

Back in her room, Hermione sat back down at her desk and reached over for favorite pen and a sheet of parchment and quickly wrote out a letter to her best friend, none too subtlety asking for company during her parents’ absence. She called down Allegra, the owl her parents had given her a couple months previously for her graduation, and tied the letter to Ginny on the owl's leg. The grey owl gave a soft hoot and flew out the open window into the bright daylight. Just as she sat back down on her poofy desk chair, there was a short rap on her bedroom door and Hermione turned to see her father walk into the room stopping a foot from the door frame.

"Hermione, you haven't seen your mother's keys have you?" He asked exasperatedly, looking around hopefully.

Taken off guard, Hermione felt her face get a bit hot. "I think they're in the kitchen-- next to the telephone."

"Thank God. World War Three has just been avoided." He gave her a cheeky grin before disappearing the way he had come. Hermione sat there for a moment before grabbing her wand and with a little flick, shut the door. This. Has. To. Stop. She thought desperately. Hermione felt her heart thudding in her chest and dazedly wondered how she was supposed to get over lusting after her father. The next morning, Hermione woke up early so she could see her parents off. Stifling a yawn, she pulled on a bulky Gryffindor sweater on top of her night shirt and walked out into the living room to find her father there with the luggage. He was sitting on the edge of the couch wearing a think knit sweater and slacks. He looked up from his phone when Hermione walked in.

“Hey there sleepyhead,” he said grinning up at her.

“Morning.”

“The cab should be here soon, just waiting on your mother.”

“Bathroom?”

“You know her so well,” he said chuckling. He then reached in his back pocket and withdrew his wallet.

“I want you to have fun while we’re away.” He said while pulling out a couple of twenty pound notes.

“Invite your friends over, order a couple of pizzas, do something crazy.”

He began laughing when he saw Hermione’s expression. Before she could say anything, there was a rustling, huffing noise from the hallway and her mom emerged carrying a large nylon duffle and her purse looking rather bad tempered. Hermione was used to this as her mother was quite irascible during normal situations, and it just happened that her mother hated flying. And they were going to Prague.

“Okay, Colleen?” Her dad asked. “Yes, let’s just get going. We need to get down to the street.” He checked his watch and he frowned slightly.

“We’re cutting it close-- you’re right.”

Hermione moved to open the front door for her parents so they could carry there suitcases out the door. Her mother leaned down and gave her a brief hug.

“Be good,” She said while adjusting the bags on her shoulder.

“You can call your Aunt Bea if anything should happen.”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Mum.” Hermione said slightly exasperatedly.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s go.”

Hermione watched as her mother walked over to the lift and pressed the button to call it. Her father grasped Hermione’s shoulder and brought her into a hug. “Have fun,” he said and as the lift light blinked, and then both her parents were gone when the lift doors shut.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione reveled in the empty apartment for a couple of days, as any eighteen year old would. Perhaps differently though since she was a witch after all.   
  
She first had transfigured her bathroom completely, so it looked more like a swimming pool than an actual bathroom. Then she had spent one glorious afternoon doing nothing but laps in rose and honey scented water. When she wasn't lounging around watching muggle movies or walking around in the park, she was reading. Currently she had taken a break from her book list and was instead reading muggle murder-mystery novels.  
  
The only grey cloud was the fact that she was still having those dreams, and still very much frustrated. She hadn't told Ginny of course, even thought the two of them talked about pretty much everything. Ginny had filled Hermione in on her and Harry’s bedroom, er,  habits and their corresponding troubles. This all led to the inevitable “break” which they were working through now.   
  
But, there was no way that Hermione could tell Ginny that she was having explicit dreams about her father. It was too much, and way too personal. They talked about guys and sex—yes, but this was different! Even if Ginny had said, exactly word for word: ”I’d totally do him— I’m a sucker for high cheekbones and dark hair— if he wasn't your dad.” The key words in that sentence: if he wasn’t your dad. The two of them had been playing truth or dare over a bottle of Firewhiskey with Luna and Fleur, and the other two had giggled and said likewise and in a heartbeat. So was it so bad that Hermione wanted to jump his bones too? She thought so.   
  


* * *

  
  
On her third day of solitude the doorbell rang sharply at eight o'clock.  Hermione was ready and sprang to open it. A red-headed girl flung her arms around her and squealed “Hermione! You’re hair looks different! You’ll never guess who I just ran into.”  
  
Twenty minutes later Hermione learned that Ginny, while on the way to meet her, had run into her ex, Michael Corner. They had got to talking and he had invited her to a bar that he was promoting now, and would they like to come along tonight?  
  
‘Come on, you have to! Please! It’ll be so much fun!’ Ginny moaned while stepping out her her heels. ‘Plus I totally need backup, I need to get out you know, dance and have a little fun.” She started shimming in an encouraging way.   
  
Hermione pouted. ‘This was supposed to be our movie night! I got the frozen chocolate covered bananas and everything.’  
  
‘We can watch and eat when we get back— I need to get out and dance! Please, please, please?   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes but gave in and laughed. ‘You’re desperate, aren’t you?’  
  
‘Oh, you have no idea. It’s been three goddamn weeks!’  
  
Ginny crashed onto the plump sofa and stretched out. Hermione sat down on the table opposite.    
  
‘Do you think there will be attractive guys? You know how picky I am.’  
  
Ginny said dramatically, ‘Darling, I will find you the perfect man. Have no fear.’   
  


* * *

  
Two hours later, she was dressed to the nines along with her strong willed red-headed friend. Ginny was wearing a form fitting navy dress, gold chandler earrings swinging about her face and red lips which clashed perfectly with her hair. Ginny couldn't have risked apparating back to the Burrow in case her mother caught her, so she had to borrow the dress from Hermione.   
  
Hermione had decided on a lacy cream coloured slip dress. It was more lingerie than a dress, but she had layered it with a slip underneath.  She had done her hair so it lay in relaxed curls cascading down her bare back. She was glad that it was so warm out otherwise she would’ve had to bring some sort of jacket, which would have ruined her outfit completely.   
  
“Do you think you will pull tonight?” Ginny asked as they got ready to apparate out.   
  
“Fingers crossed. You?”  
  
“Undoubtedly” Ginny said, and with that they apparated out of the apartment.  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

They appeared with a crack that was oddly reverberated by the alley walls. Hermione checked that her case was still clasped and secure, and then set off down the pavement with Ginny. The night air was still warm, and the sky still had vestiges of the sunset. Lavender and pinkish tones were streaked across the sky, and as she looked up she saw a muggle passenger plane pass above them.  
  
A block later, Ginny stopped abruptly at a black lacquered door. It was the third door on the street that they had passed, and it was just as ordinary as the rest. Hermione looked down the street and saw that there about a dozen more ordinary doors, with ordinary brass knockers.  
  
Without a word to Hermione, Ginny reached out a hand and knocked. Immediately the door creaked open. At first all Hermione could see was a narrow, dimly lit hallway. She looked at Ginny apprehensively, thinking they had been mistaken, but Ginny grinned and stepped on through.There was nothing there on the other side, nothing except a plush, blood-red carpet. Ginny seemed to know where she was going, because she turned and gave Hermione a reassuring look, and set off down a wide circular staircase.  
  
Hermione first noticed the crimson color to the light. She looked around for the source, and realized that hundreds of orbs, full of that crimson color, were floating just above their heads. It gave the bottles behind the bar the same rouged appearance and the people dancing seemed to shimmer in it. She could sense the magic hanging in the atmosphere; it was absolutely thick with it. Whatever enchantment or spell was around the place was working perfectly, and Hermione felt goosebumps along her exposed arms as they descended into the crowd.  
  
Ginny with her flame red hair seemed to fit right in— but she felt suddenly slightly uneasy. She couldn't see anybody that she knew, though she wasn't expecting to see anyone except perhaps Michael.  
  
“I’ll get some drinks, shall I?” Ginny said, leaning in to talk above the thumping music.  
  
Hermione nodded, and Ginny left, weaving her way through leather couches and crowds.  
  
She looked around. Girls and guys her age— maybe two or five years older, give or take, were chatting and dancing around them. The unease from before slipped away as she began to listen to the low thumping music and scattered conversation.  
  
Hermione noticed a couple in a dark corner not too far from where she was sitting. The light from the strange orbs gave the two almost complete privacy, but Hermione could still see them from where she sat. Hermione usually didn't stare at people so blatantly, but this display reminded her of her passion filled dreams. It was specifically the way he was holding onto her waist that made Hermione unable to look away. Again, all the times she had woken up, full of longing and frustrated desire came to her. This is hardly the time to think about this, she thought, wiling herself to think about anything else. Apart from anything, it was making her breath-quicken in a way that only meant one sure thing.  
  
Ginny returned just then, holding two butterbeer bottles. She handed one to Hermione, who had forgotten for a moment that Ginny had gone.  
  
“What do I owe you?” Hermione said, picking the first thing that popped into her head.  
  
Ginny made a gesture as if swatting her remark away. “Oh please, I got these on the house.” Hermione supposed what she really meant was that they had really been on Michael.  
  
“Oh, did you see Michael then?” She said, watching for Ginny’s reaction.  
  
“No— I simply told the bartender that he could put the drinks on Michael’s tab.”  
  
“What? Are you allowed to do that?” Hermione asked, knitting her eyebrows together.  
  
“Honestly! Lighten up, Hermione.” Ginny said, rolling her eyes and leaning back in her seat. “Michael invited me, and by extension, you.” Ginny frowned and looked at her quizzically, like she was trying to pick something out. But, just as she had opened her mouth, a whole swarm descended on them and began excitedly squealing.  
  
“Ginny! Hermione! I can’t believe it!”  
  
“Oh my goodness! I didn't know you guys were in London!”  
  
A very drunk Lavender Brown threw her arms around Ginny with such force that Hermione burst out laughing at the sight of Ginny’s startled face. Hermione saw Ginny set her butterbeer down on the floor and hug the other two girls. It turned out the Lavender was accompanied by Parvati and Padma Patil. Parvati sat down near Hermione and also hugged her but in a normal fashion.  
  
“Hermione! You look… really good!” Parvati said, looking at her relaxed curly hair and flirty dress. There was a hint of surprise in Parvati’s voice, that almost could have been rudeness, but wasn’t. Parvati wore a simple shift dress that highlighted her long legs. She had her long dark hair parted in the center, and wore gold hoops. Hermione thought that Parvati looked perfect, and she almost felt envious of the girl.  
  
The five of them began taking, and soon after Lavender was on her feet, saying that this reunion deserved a toast. She returned soon after with a huge pitcher of something summery; Hermione could see bits of fruit floating around the top.  
  
“Cheers!” they all cried, and clinked glasses and laughing.  
  
Hermione took a steady sip, and almost choked. It was certainly fruity, but also strong. Nevertheless, she downed her glass, and she saw that the others had done the same.  


* * *

  
  
Three-quarters of the pitcher later, Parvati and Hermione had begun talking about their last weeks of spring term at Hogwarts. Unbeknownst to Hermione, the majority of their year had spent the last few weeks of term, simply put, hooking up with one another.  
   
Parvati had just finished up telling her how Lavender and Seamus had begun a hot-and-heavy fling, just a couple of days before the term had ended and they had all packed onto the Hogwarts Express. Hermione vaguely wondered if Lavender’s current drunkenness was somehow related to her boy-agnst. Her brief angst from before had gone, she was too preoccupied to really think about much. And anyway, the drink had pleasantly dulled her senses.  
  
Parvati grabbed her hand, and before Hermione knew where they were going they were off. She realized how much she really had to drink by how dependent she was on Parvati’s reassuring grip. She could hear Lavender and the other two laughing from behind them as they stepped through the crowds. The music which was louder and more central than where they had been sitting before, seemed to be reverberating with her own heartbeat.  
  
They were now in the center of the dace floor, and Parvati had pulled her close to shimmy. The lights were flickering so she couldn’t always see Parvati’s face, only in certain moments. Parvati’s guiding hand, combined with the rum-soaked fruit seemed to have instilled a powerful confidence in her. She swayed her hips and laced her fingers around Parvati’s waist, not really thinking and letting go completely. She just let her eyes drift shut and let the beat wash over her.  
  
When she felt other hands on her, light and almost questioning, she turned around and saw the hands belonged to a tall, wavy haired stranger. Hermione couldn't quite see his face, but she smiled and gave him accepting nod. She realized that she had never danced like this with any guy before; this was way more intimate than dancing at the Yule Ball with Viktor, and strangely more exciting than she had ever felt with Ron.  
  
Parvati and the others faded away and she continued to shimmy with her stranger for they hadn't asked each others names.The feeling of his hand on her waist was bringing back those feelings from before. She looked up to see him inches away from her mouth, and she closed the distance, meeting him with a kiss. It began light, but Hermione threw herself into the kiss, finally able to release some of her pent up feelings. His lips were so soft, and Hermione just melted into his embrace.  



	5. Chapter 5

Hermione woke disoriented in a darkened room. She hadn't yet opened her eyes, but she knew that she was not in her bed. This mattress was firmer, and the sheets had a silkiness that was unfamiliar. She cracked her eyes and felt a sudden dizzying swoop of dehydration. She bleakly looked to the window and saw that the sky was a murky grey color. She began to pull herself up, though her aching feet would have liked to stay in the bed for awhile longer. Just then, she felt someone shift beside her, and her eyes flew open.   
  
She vaguely recognized him from the previous night. From what she could see, he had wavy dark hair and a couple of freckles on his neck that ran down onto his tanned back. Curiosity swept over her and she carefully lifted herself up and peered over, hoping to recognize something more in his face to help her jog her memory. He had long, dark eyelashes and the same tanned skin. A small smile played around his lips as he slept and Hermione remembered kissing him, running her hands through his dark hair and the feel of his lips on hers.   
  
With a sudden burst of clarity, she could remember distinctly dancing with Parvati, then with this dark tousled haired stranger. She couldn't remember his name, and although she didn't know where she was or where her knickers were, not knowing his name seemed to be the most improper thing about the situation.   
  
Eyes scanning the room, she put together what must have happened, almost moment-by-moment. A pair of dark trousers lay by the open bedroom door, and her white lacy bra peeked out from underneath. A men’s tee shirt lay at the bottom of the bed, and her heels with them. She suddenly became aware that she wasn’t wearing anything, and immediately felt a flush spread across her face. She lay naked, with a stranger she couldn't even put a name to.  
  
Hermione simply didn't do this. It was so unfamiliar and unexpected that she didn't know what to attempt first. She simply continued to look around the room, as if hoping to find more clues. She spotted on the bedside table nearest to her, draped across a lamp and a couple of thick hardbacks, her spent dress. She sighed in relief that her clutch, which had her wand and other necessities, was there too.   
  
Gingerly, Hermione sat up testing to see if movement would disturb him. She slipped into her dress and undergarments (her knickers had been hiding with her bra), and grabbed her clutch and headed into the ensuite.    
  
She saw her reflection for the first time since waking, and felt curiously self-satisfied. She didn't look good, but she looked respectable. She had expected a curly, knotted mess with her hair, but was pleasantly surprised that she could just finger-comb out the straggly bits. She simply reapplied her berry lipstick and had a quick sip of water from the tap. There wasn't much to be done for her obvious worn-the-previous-night dress, but she did have a stashed, in-case-of-emergency cardigan in her clutch. She pulled it from the bag, and slipped it on. She inhaled the clean, cotton smell with particular relish.   
  
Hermione paused on the threshold, unsure of what to do next. It came to her again that she had never been in this situation before. Hermione wondered what Ginny or Parvati would do. Would they leave, and write it off as a one-night stand? Perhaps. She knew that she wasn't up to having a long conversation with her freckly stranger. He of course would recognize her as the famous Hermione Granger, part of the fabled Golden Trio.   
  
It had been a long time since her name had appeared in the papers, and she wasn't at all ready for a splashy, front cover article about just how she was getting over Ron. The Prophet hadn't yet found out about her split-up, and she wasn’t about to enlighten them. There had been enough articles about she and Ron when they had begun dating. Hermione didn't think she could stand another article about her personal life. What if he went to some magazine, whether it was The Prophet or not, and sold their story? She could just see some lewd, tell-all promising headline. Though the war had ended, Hermione was still wary about trust. And she didn't know if she could trust him. Hopefully, he wouldn't remember that he had gone home with Hermione Granger, just some random brunette.   
  
Standing there, Hermione thought back on what it had been like right after the war had ended. It had been a relief to return to Hogwarts for their seventh year and establish some sense of normality. She just wasn't ready for anything to disrupt that, in any respect. The reason she lingered here was because it was polite to stay; running out while he slept felt just plain rude. A voice in her mind, which sounded a lot like Ginny, said that she needn’t feel guilty, that if they had gone back to her flat, she would have likely been the one to wake up alone. Going with that mindset, she quietly crept out of the dark room and made to close the door behind her.   
  
“Granger?”  
  
A voice spoke her name with complete incredulity.   
  
She jumped. She knew that voice. Hermione turned to see Draco Malfoy standing in the opposite doorway, briefcase in hand. He was wearing a dark suit and tie. He was obviously off to work. It was, after all, Friday morning and a work day. She was completely thrown— Malfoy was the last person she would have wanted to see in an embarrassing moment such as this.  
  
“Malfoy?” Hermione said, completely nonplussed. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I live here.” Malfoy said with a smirk. “I could ask the same of you, however…”  
  
He trailed off. Hermione opened her mouth to say something snappy, but nothing came to mind. It was quite obvious what she was doing. She hadn’t shut the bedroom door, so Malfoy, who was quite taller than her, had an unobstructed view of the bed, and his tousled haired flatmate.   
  
“Well…I must be off.” Hermione said, in a high pitched voice jutting her chin out.   
  
“I’m going to be late for a meeting.” She supplied, when Malfoy had just stared at her.   
  
He simply nodded, the smirk gone from his face.   
  
She set off down the hallway, vaguely remembering from the previous night which way to go. She sensed Malfoy moving behind her, and realized that he too must be heading for the front door. The hallway opened out onto a bright modern living room. Hermione was momentarily distracted by the astounding view from the floor to ceiling glass windows, which looked down out onto a magnificent park. She could tell that they were at least ten stories up.    
  
Hermione looked away from the view to see Malfoy paused at the open door. Hermione realized that he was holding it open for her. He didn't say anything to her murmured thanks, but just moved to call the lift.   
  
Hermione wanted to communicate to him somehow that she didn't normally do this, that this was a one-off. She knew of course, that she didn't have to explain herself to anyone, least of all Malfoy. But, something made her feel like it was necessary, nonetheless.   
  
A light flashed along side the lift, and they both moved forward. As the gates slid open, Draco waited for Hermione to enter first. He still wasn't saying anything, nor was he even looking at her. She bit her lip, feeling suddenly wary at Draco’s cold body language.   
  
“I thought you were and Weasley were an item.” He said, looking straight ahead at the metal doors.   
  
“No, we broke up. Actually it was two months ago today.” She said, realizing it as she spoke.   
  
He nodded, and seemed to mull that over. Then the doors slid open, and Draco set off briskly, without so much as a glance back. Hermione briefly saw his expression as he turned out onto the street. His jaw was set and tense, and his pale eyes set on something she couldn't see.   
  


* * *

  
Hermione watched him walk away, and then moved towards the door to see his progress down the street. She had no idea what had just happened. Seeing Malfoy had been a shock to begin with, but the way he had acted had been the strangest part of the whole encounter.   
  
She arrived back at the flat to find Ginny asleep on the couch. It looked as if Ginny had located the nearest plush surface, and passed out. She glanced at the clock. It was seven-thirty in the morning. Ginny was a notoriously deep sleeper, so she thought it was fair for her to take a shower and get cleaned up. She wasn't sure in what mood Ginny would wake up in, and she wasn't ready for a whole bombardment of questions. Regardless, Ginny had a tendency for being irritable in the mornings so she let her friend sleep on.   
  
She walked all the way to the door of her bathroom, before remembering that it still resembled a swimming pool. She wasn't in the mood for heavy spell-work, so she just grabbed her towel and headed for her parent’s regular, non-magical shower.   
 Hermione let out a audible noise of surprise as she opened the door to her parents’ room. Ginny had brought Parvati, Padma and Lavender back as well. The girls lay asleep, breathing deeply above the covers. And for whatever reason, Lavender was completely naked. She lay on her stomach, with her clothes bunched in a pile on the floor. She didn't really feel like she could pass judgement on Lavender, when she had woken up in a similar state not two hours previously.    
  
She just stepped back, and shut the door. She rubbed her temple, and realized that her lack of sleep had caught up with her. She trudged back to her room and fell asleep on her thankfully unoccupied bed. 


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione began September feeling like everything was falling into place, though a lot had changed for her in a short amount of time. She moved into a new flat in London with Ginny, and began her first job at the Ministry of Magic.  
  
Hermione had gotten the owl telling her that she had been offered an assistant position in the Magical Law Enforcement Department earlier in the summer, which she had quickly accepted. Her living situation had been up in the air until Ginny had gotten the owl that she had been chosen as a reserve for the Holyhead Harpies, the all female quidditch team. The team practiced in London, so the two of them decided to search for a place together.  
  
She had met her future flatmates purely by chance. Hermione had stopped by to surprise Ginny for a congratulatory drink after a Harpies practice one day. Before she knew it, two members of the team were telling her and Ginny that they had two spare bedrooms that they were looking to let, and would they like to live with them?  
  
Cath and Sofia, her new flatmates, were quite something. For one thing, they were completely gorgeous, though not superficial or particularly intimidating which was a relief to Hermione. She didn’t think she could stand living in a flat with two catty girls— she had withstood that at Hogwarts from a few, and didn’t wish to revisit it. But living with Cath, Sofia and Ginny was nothing like it had been at Hogwarts. For starters, they were much older and mature, and they operated at levels of such high energy and optimism, that it was hard to be down or stressed in their presence.  
  
Having stunningly beautiful flatmates had it’s advantages— less of the spotlight was on her when she went out with the three others. However, she still got curious looks and glances now and again. The wizarding world still treated her as a celebrity, though it had toned down as the months went by. She had been initially worried about her job at the ministry— wondering if she would get special treatment. Apart from a few extra glances she got in the corridors and lifts,  
she was treated like every other assistant.  
  
Hermione was relieved that the four of them had a good flatmate dynamic. At the end of the day, she would find the three of them sprawled on the sofa, usually each with a beer in hand chatting about whatever. She would slip off her work shoes and join their conversation, sometimes grabbing a drink for herself. Sometimes the girls got into long winded discussions about Quidditch tactics and teams. Whenever that happened, she tried to keep up with players and terms, but more often than not she got lost trying to follow it all and merely got up to get everyone another beer. It was still early days, but Hermione could tell that they were to be good friends, all in all.  
  


* * *

  
  
It was almost a week and a half since she had woken up, groggy and dehydrated from all of those fruity alcoholic drinks when she had gone out with Ginny. She had spent the following hours doing nothing but drinking water and listening to very quiet classical music. There had been one tense moment when she had opened the refrigerator only to get a huge pungent whiff of expired goat cheese which had almost made her sick. So she had mostly resigned to stay horizontal on her bed.  
  
Ginny had arrived on her doorstep around nine that evening. By this time her hangover had mostly subsided. Hermione had opened the front door to see the redhead there, slumped against the wall clutching a bottle of patented Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes Hangover All Cure.  
  
“So, where the hell did you get off to?” Ginny asked her, once they had settled down at the kitchen table.  
  
Hermione sighed, and took a sip of water while Ginny looked expectant.  
  
“C’mon, I know you went off with a guy. Parvati told me everything.”  
  
“Parvati told you what?”  
  
“The dancing! And subsequent snogging!” Ginny pressed, leaning forward. “Did you go back to his? Is that where you disappeared to after? She told me that she saw you go off with him, and that she didn't see you again after that.”  
  
“Oh alright, yes, I did… but honestly do we have to talk about this?” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “What happened with you—did you see Michael?”  
  
Ginny pointed a finger at her. “Don’t try to change the subject.” She paused. “Was it really that awful?”  
  
“No… it wasn't that.”  
  
“So it was good?” Ginny pressed.  
  
Hermione heaved a huge sigh this time.    
  
“Honestly Ginny, the only other experience I’ve had has been with your brother. It was better than that, by leaps and bounds, but I’m not sure how else to categorize it.”  
Now Hermione lay in her room, ruminating about things while she tried in vain to fall asleep. She was mainly thinking about Ron, and the end of their relationship. Hermione thought it almost strange how fast her life seemed to be moving forward, and yet it seemed ages since she had begun her seventh year. One moment she was finishing her exams, then next sitting on the Hogwarts Express watching as the castle grew smaller and smaller through the glass windowpane.  
  
For almost a whole year, she and Ron had waited to have sex. Not for any particular reason; it seemed like to Hermione that the moment was never quite right. At the time Hermione didn’t think much of it, she just had declined and told Ron no— which had always been alright with him (Ron had been very patient and considerate with her.) Looking back, perhaps the stress from being in her final year at Hogwarts or residual trauma from the war or the fact that she was scared was the reason she always told him no.  
  
Now, Hermione could see that taking that final step with Ron couldn't have ever been “just sex”. Not that it would have been— she had been in a committed relationship with Ron at the time. It had been a big step for them. She just couldn't have foreseen that it would have been the sex that ended their relationship.  
  
And yet, she had said yes to him in the end. It happened the day of graduation. Strangely it had been on the off-chance— they had gone back to his dormitory after the ceremony, for something or another. She had forgotten the details since. One thing led to another, and Hermione found herself saying yes. She remembered the fiery red color the sun had made shining in on the Gryffindor curtains. It hadn't been anything like she had expected. And she was surprised at how little she had felt lying there afterwards in Ron’s freckly arms.  
  
Hermione realized the only thing that had been keeping them together for all those months was the easiness of the relationship, and the comfort of dating your best friend. The sex had been the wake up call. They had practically cannonballed into a fully committed relationship, basically after their first kiss. There had been no buildup, flirting, or dates, which in hindsight Hermione had missed, and now seemed important. She missed the exciting part of falling for someone, and having it felt back. She had never gotten that from Ron, they had skipped right into a relationship and she had never gotten the courtship that she didn't know she had needed, until it was much too late.  
  
She imagined that Ginny, who was across the hall, was fast asleep. The girl slept like the dead. It had been a overcast and dreary day and not surprisingly, it had been a muddy practice. The three of them had come back splattered and visibly tired. They had all called it quits about an hour ago, and Hermione had tried to sleep with little success. She longed for the accomplished feeling at the end of the day that meant that she could fall asleep without a problem. But sleep simply wouldn't come; there were too many things rioting around her head.  
  
She had multi- departmental meeting early Monday morning. She was more jittery than nervous.  
Waiting was always so much worse than the actual event, in almost all cases. Just like exams, Hermione was prepared, she had done the work and she just wanted to sit the damn thing already.  
  
She threw the comforter off her and sat up in bed, running a hand though her hair. Sleep wasn't going to happen, she just knew it. She reached for the book she was currently half way through, but soon put it down, unable to get past the first paragraph.  
  
 She let out a exasperated sigh and rolled over.  
  
For the most part, her explicit dreams had subsided. It seemed that the events of that one night had done the trick. She still had the occasional dream however, though they had changed almost completely.  
  
In the mild morning light she could only recall wisps and emotions, nothing concrete. In the past she could remember vivid scenes, almost act by act. Now, she awoke with a distilled dream, something condensed and also incomplete.  
  
The flavor of the dreams had subtly changed as well. She wasn’t even sure who it was anymore who appeared along side her. He was no longer that too familiar lover. It made Hermione question if it had ever been that younger idolized version of her father.  
  
Perhaps her sexually frustrated imagination had merely conjured a man, who by coincidence resembled her father, and Hermione’s waking brain, searching for an answer, had put name to face prematurely when there had never been a name to begin with. What if her dreaming brain had merely crafted a mythic, cocktail of a man made purely for her nocturnal liaisons?  
  



End file.
